


Interlude

by zinke



Series: What We Didn't See [9]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-23
Updated: 2007-04-23
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:25:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: "So. This is going to be 'our' place from now on?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something to tide us over until we get to an episode where both Josh and Donna make an appearance. Exactly how the writers could do that to us after leaving things the way they did at the end of 'The Cold', I'll never know.
> 
> Thanks again to caz963 for the beta and the suggestions.

* * * *

Coffee makes us severe, and grave, and philosophical.   
-Jonathan Swift

* * * *

“So, is this going to be ‘our place’ from now on?” Josh questioned with a smirk as he held open the door for her. 

Donna looked at him, decidedly nonplussed. “It’s a Starbucks,” she replied flatly as she brushed past him into the coffee shop.

“I’m just saying,” he defended as he trailed inside after her, “we’ve been here together twice in three weeks. I don’t think I’ve eaten in the same place more than once since the convention, let alone with the same person.”

“You’re serious?”

Josh merely shrugged and gave her a sheepish grin as he stepped into line. “Skim latte?”

“And a low-fat frosted lemon slice,” she called out as she turned and began to wind her way carefully through the crowded space. Spotting an empty table in a far corner, she quickened her pace, reaching the table just ahead of a young, overdressed power-broker type who gave her a nasty parting sneer as she flopped into one of the table's two chairs. 

Sighing with satisfaction, she set her bag to rest at her feet. It felt so good to just sit quietly for a moment without anyone pestering her about media appearances or press statements. Her own mind, however, seemed unwilling to leave her in peace, her thoughts an unending clutter of to-do lists and confused musings about where it was exactly her relationship with Josh now stood. 

Our place... She wished she could take what Josh had said at face value and believe that he saw this as something more than just a quick, shared caffeine fix before he jetted back to DC and to work. Over the past week, he’d become like a man possessed, living, breathing and eating campaign strategy. She’d hazard a guess that he’d have been dreaming about it too, except she was pretty sure he was barely taking the time to sleep. 

There didn’t seem to be a spare moment in his days to be thinking about her—about them. Or about that day. 

Truth be told, she hadn’t exactly been drowning in free time herself. The press had become electrified in the days following the events at San Andreo, the fervor only intensifying once it became clear that the accident had made this election a bona-fide horse race. Both she and Lou had been struggling to simply keep up with the requests for interviews, quotes and TV appearances. 

It was at the oddest times, though, that she found herself remembering the feel of his fingers caressing her jaw, his lips hungrily meeting her own. And when that happened, her mind seemed to empty of everything else. Until inevitably her senses would return to her, accompanied by the niggling thought that she really didn’t want to be that woman again. 

Donna had been unconsciously harboring the notion that Josh had been holding her back for so long that it had become a part of her. But the moment that CJ had finally put her pathetically unrequited devotion into words, it had become impossible for Donna to see her relationship with Josh in any other way. Somewhere along the way she’d become more and more resentful of the advantages she felt he’d continued to take, and before she’d quite realized it, the affection she’d had for him had turned iron cold and bitter. 

Until Gaza, of course. For one glimmering moment, things had been different. And then, just as suddenly— they weren’t. She was back at work, going through the motions in a job she was beyond qualified for. And she and Josh...well, they were back to going through the motions as well. Everything had felt hollow to her, unsatisfying and pointless. And so she’d left, in the worst possible way, because she felt she had no other choice.

Struck by a sudden and inexplicable need for reassurance, her eyes sought him out across the room. She finally spotted him at the counter, ticking off what she presumed was their order on his fingers as he relayed each item to the barista. His posture was tense and he seemed to be holding himself awkwardly; she was willing to bet that his back was bothering him today, probably from too many hours spent bowed into airline seats. His overcoat hung just a bit too loosely on his frame, and his complexion was just this side of pale. 

Funny how, even when she wanted to throttle the man for leaving her so confused and uncertain, she still couldn’t keep herself from worrying about him. 

As her eyes refocused on his face she was startled to find that he was watching her, a small, apprehensive grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. She offered him a quick, tight smile in return, which only seemed to deepen the worry lines creasing his forehead. Thankfully, the barista asked him a question at that moment, forcing him to turn away from her as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. 

She couldn’t blame Josh for being wary; after all, she wasn’t exactly sure what was happening between them, either. It was only a couple months ago that they couldn’t even be in the same room together without sniping at each other. Yet while things between them were still far from perfect—there were still so many things left unsaid for both of them—it seemed to her that the anger and resentment had lessened over the ensuing weeks. A gradual thaw which had culminated in a fiery, inadvertent kiss of admission, and a soap-operatic misfire, the memory of which was still taunting her days later. 

She’d been so assured of her actions that night, had convinced herself of his state of mind to the point where she’d had no doubt as to what his response would be. But then Edie had rushed after her, an innocent messenger carrying what Donna immediately took to be his rejection of her offer, her feelings. Until she’d looked him in the eye.

She’d never before seen him look at her that way, eyes shining with lust and determination so powerful it seemed to knock the very breath from her lungs. A desirous look that was best summed up in one single word: Mine. 

But now, thanks to the passage of time, she had no idea what to think; her opinion on the situation seemed to change daily, sometimes hourly. There were moments when she felt trapped, when every interaction between them felt so reminiscent of ‘the old them’—sullied by fear and denial—that she wanted to scream with frustration. But then there were others, like a few minutes ago. He’d say something unconsciously sweet and she could sense something—a tender undercurrent that in the past, he’d rarely let anyone see, but which he now seemed more willing to reveal to her. It was in those moments that she felt her self-control start to slip, her chest beginning to swell with giddy, breathless hope; and she would begin to entertain the notion that maybe, just maybe her doubts were unfounded.

Looking up, she caught sight of Josh ambling towards her, cups and pastry bags balanced awkwardly in his hands, slowing for only a moment to clumsily dodge an oblivious woman plugged into her iPod. After a quick assessment to assure himself he hadn’t spilled or dropped anything, he ambled the rest of the way to their table, giving her another self-conscious smile upon his arrival.

Carefully, he set the cups and pastry bags on the table before sliding into the seat opposite her. “Lemon slice...and a vanilla latte,” he reported, sliding her share across the table. “I figured you deserve to splurge today, so I got you the full-fat, full-flavor versions.” 

Recognizing the gentle sincerity in his voice, Donna met his eyes with a grateful smile. “Thanks,” she replied softly. 

An affectionate grin played at the corners of his mouth as he held her gaze for several seconds before leaning over to pick up his own cup. When he looked up at her again, his expression was closed, his professional mask firmly back in place. “So, I’m making a schedule change. You’re leaving tonight with the Congressman for a day-long sweep through California—San Francisco, Fresno, LA.” 

Sighing softly, she willed herself to focus on the business at hand because for now, this was going to have to be enough. “What do you need me to do?” she asked tiredly as she bent down to retrieve her bag. 

* * * *

Peeling the lid from his cup, Josh watched the steam rise lazily from his coffee as he tried to make sense of his muddled thoughts. He was worried about Donna; she’d looked sad and tired when he’d met up with the campaign earlier in the afternoon. He suspected she’d been feeling this way for the past couple of days actually; her usual lightness of tone had been absent in the many phone conversations they’d had—all about work, of course. There never seemed to be time to talk about anything else. That didn’t mean, however, that he wasn’t thinking about other, more pleasurable things. Oh no; those kinds of thoughts kept resurfacing with an alarming frequency despite his best efforts to keep them at bay.

But the fact that Donna seemed to be unhappy was a fact that was bothering him more than he was willing to admit, and had been the reason why he’d opted to ignore the ‘fat-free’ directive she’d given him at the counter and surprise her with something that actually tasted good. It had worked, albeit briefly; she’d given him a glimpse of a smile and in that moment she’d looked like the Donna of old. And then he’d stupidly gone and told her she was leaving tonight for a marathon day of stumping in California with the Congressman. The smile had immediately fallen from her face, and the woman he’d been trying to draw out was gone, leaving him instead with a tired, cranky staffer and renewing his concern in earnest.

He could argue that this concern was due to the fact that it wouldn't do to have his Campaign Spokesperson looking run-down and haggard on national television, but he would of course be lying. His real fear was that it was he, and not the grueling campaign schedule, who had done this to her. 

And that was today’s reason why he couldn't bring himself to talk to her.

Yesterday, he’d been in Washington while she’d been with the Congressman in New York. The day before had been a frenzied parade of campaign stops, and there simply hadn’t been any chance to catch her alone. The day before that... It was a truth he wasn’t necessarily happy with, but a truth nonetheless: until November sixth, the campaign was always going to come first. 

No matter how much he wanted to reacquaint himself with the softness of her lips or to have another chance to run his fingers across the soft skin of her neck, he couldn’t forget what was being expected of him by the Congressman, by the Party, and most acutely by himself. 

But it had become so much harder to concentrate on those expectations after he’d learned just how good it felt to kiss her. Glancing at her surreptitiously, his eyes traced the soft curve of her cheek and followed the fall of her hair as she sat unaware, perusing a file that was propped open on her lap. He wanted this—wanted her—of that he was more certain than ever, and when she’d offered him entrance to her room that night, she’d left him with little doubt that she wanted the same. But while he found the thought of finally being with her exhilarating, he also found himself unnerved by it. He’d been shocked to discover that she wanted him in her bed—but he’d known for some time now that sex wasn’t the only thing he wanted from her. It was unsettling to realize just how much he desired her—all of her—when he had no idea whether she wanted as much from him. 

There was a time not too long ago when he’d been able to convince himself that sexual attraction was the only thing driving their relationship. That self-delusion had been irrevocably shattered however, the moment Donna had been involved in the explosion in Gaza. Several hundred phone calls to various military and diplomatic agencies, one vociferous emotional meltdown outside the Oval Office, and a last-minute, several-thousand dollar flight to Germany later, he’d thought that his feelings had been essentially laid bare to everyone he’d been fighting to hide them from—including Donna. 

Or so he’d believed. But then the bodice-ripping Irishman had shown up with his flowery brogue and his flirtatious toe-wiggling, and she hadn’t sent the guy away. Instead, after a mere three days, she’d blithely told Josh he was being overbearing and annoying, and had insisted he return to Washington. 

And that, he’d come to realize, had been the crux of the matter for him. He’d revealed the vulnerable side of himself to her, and as soon as she was lucid enough to do so she had sent him home in favor of more charming company. So he’d done what he concluded she wanted: forced his emotions back into the prison from whence they’d come and resumed the well-worn role of her boss. 

In retrospect, he did admit to himself that he might have been a bit heavy-handed after her return; he’d been trying so hard to protect himself and be what he had thought she’d wanted that he’d forgotten that they used to be something else to each other, too—friends. And after Donna had left, he’d been too hurt to even want to remember that aspect of their relationship.

But over the past few months as they worked together on the campaign, it was as if they were re-learning each other; not necessarily repairing their relationship but rebuilding it into something stronger, deeper. And as the weeks passed and the anger and resentment eased, he found himself wanting more time, more of her. He still did; the impulse had become increasingly difficult to ignore since he’d kissed her and she'd returned the gesture in kind, with a smoldering look and a key. That night—for the first time—he hadn't allowed himself to push those feelings away, and she’d seemed to grasp onto them just as willingly. If the Congressman hadn’t called him...well, who knew?

But he had, and though Josh was loathe to admit it, there was a small part of him that was grateful for it. It had taken them months to get here—the campaign, yes, but more importantly him and Donna—and he was hesitant to do anything impulsive that might jeopardize either situation. For the first time since the New Hampshire filing deadline they were in a viable position to win this thing outright. He had two weeks to achieve the impossible, and it was going to take him every waking moment to pull it off. 

Politics had always been his first love, the women he’d dated over the years willing mistresses who had understood his situation through familiarity of circumstance. But Donna was different; she was dedicated to her work but not married to it. More significantly though, she was the first woman who’d ever presented any serious competition for his attention—a realization that simply couldn’t have come at a worse time. Because even though he hated himself for thinking of her this way, she was in fact a distraction, something neither he nor the campaign could afford right now. She deserved so much better than that, and he wanted to give her—

“Josh, did you hear me?”

“Hmm?” He tore his eyes away from their intense study of the street outside to look at her, sitting across from him and watching him with a familiar, exasperated expression. He fought to hide his smile at the sight. 

“I need to meet Lou at the Constitution Center in half an hour,” she replied patiently as she crumpled the now empty pastry bag into a ball and dropped it into her empty cup. “What time is your flight back?” 

“Couple hours.” 

“Which means it’s time for you to get going, too,” she directed with a pointed look at the mess sitting on the table before him.

Ignoring her, he pulled a face as she leaned across the table and began to gather his empty cup and papers as well. “It’s a twenty minute drive to the airport.”

“Not during rush hour, it isn’t. C’mon,” she said as she rose from her seat, “I’ll help you get a cab.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”

“Why? Because out of the two of us you’re the one carrying the Y-chromosome?”

Josh stood and gave her an impish smirk. “I’m not stupid enough to even attempt an answer to that question.”

Donna favored him with a bemused smile as she stepped around the table and handed him both paper-stuffed cups before turning on her heel and starting towards the door. “Good boy.”

His eyes longingly followed the sway of her hips as she walked away. “I’m certainly trying to be,” he murmured softly to himself before following her outside.

 

*fin.*


End file.
